


See The Little Things

by froggydarren



Category: Teen Wolf (TV) RPF
Genre: Gen, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:23:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2764679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/froggydarren/pseuds/froggydarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There's an email circulating between the cast and the writers afterwards, everyone's feedback on the table read bundled up nicely in one thread, questions and comments and answers and explanations and a whole bunch of "spoilers, people, mind the fucking spoilers". </i>
  <br/>
  <i>But then his phone pings with a reply that's from Dylan, and Tyler's attention on whatever he was doing is shot.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. re: table read

**Author's Note:**

  * For [peterrhhale](https://archiveofourown.org/users/peterrhhale/gifts).



It's never the big, important moments that catch Tyler off-guard. It's not Dylan coming out of a room dressed up to the nines and looking fucking edible, because Tyler hypes himself up for those. He does that with things like Dylan having a particularly hard-hitting scene (season 3 was a whirlwind of those and Tyler still isn't sure how he kept his cool -- in public, at least). But no, it's the stupid things that make him stumble over his words, make him ponder on his life and his choices, make him turn beet red and thank fuck for being able to keep his stubble that at least covers _some_ of that.

Like coming back to the new season and their first table read. He's not even sure why he was there -- it's not like he was in the episode for anything other than being covered in fucking _spider webs_ (yeah yeah, so it's almost as bad as the pool thing had been for Dylan, Tyler can deal, but he refuses to _not_ be grumpy about it), and yet he showed up. Just to know what's going on, he said. Just to know ahead of the next episode that he actually _is_ in what Derek is coming out of. That's all.

He wasn't there to watch Dylan slip into character seamlessly, to follow the movement of Dylan's hands -- because of course Dylan doesn't just read his lines, he gesticulates whenever he's given half a chance. He's there to sit next to Dylan and hold his water bottle protectively so it doesn't get knocked off of the table and into the nearest lap (Tyler's, mostly, which is why he knows to hold on to the bottle).

There's an email circulating between the cast and the writers afterwards, everyone's feedback on the table read bundled up nicely in one thread, questions and comments and answers and explanations and a whole bunch of "spoilers, people, mind the fucking spoilers". Tyler reads through, and he comments on the most glaringly obvious -- he can't _not_ point out the queerbaiting that Holland has already called out -- but he stays out of the conversation otherwise.

But then his phone pings with a reply that's from Dylan, and Tyler's attention on whatever he was doing -- the roving machine groans to a sudden halt -- is shot.

> _re: table read_
> 
> _from: dobri@_
> 
> _cc: --_
> 
> _So, other than being bored through the read and being the waterboy, what did you think?_
> 
> _xo DO._

Tyler stares at the email and wonders if it's been blind-copied to everyone else, or if he's seeing right and Dylan's asking only him. He thinks about texting Holland to check, but he's not sure if he can handle the lecture and the teasing that would follow. She knows, of course she knows, because she's Lydia at times, and Tyler wonders just how casting got things so right with her.  Wary about who his reply might go to, he grabs his phone and decides to text back instead.

> _Can't say I mind having the easy part. Bet you love the idea of a field trip, you'll rock it, as usual. I'm getting you a non-spill sippy cup for TRs tho._

He can hear the echo of Dylan's laughter in his mind when "Delivered" changes to "Read". He doesn't watch the three dots of doom, he really doesn't -- at least that's what he tells himself when he keeps poking at the screen whenever it dims, just so he can see the text message app.

That's it, Dylan only texts one word after a good five minutes of obviously ( _dots of doom_ isn't an exaggeration, Tyler thinks) typing _something_. And it's so typical that while Tyler grunts at the screen and the reply, he's not really surprised. Then his mind flashes back to the table read, and to Dylan's face when he was psyching himself up for his own lines. Tyler hates being back a little, but at the same time…

…it's those little things that make him want to sit there in silence and watch.

 


	2. re: game night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy birthday, Janni :D

He thinks there's no way Dylan _doesn't_ know. Tyler is a whole universe removed from "subtle", his attempts to keep things light and to play it off as hammed up fan service in interviews miss the target by several miles. But Dylan never says anything, just plays off of Tyler's looks, offers a hand up for a hi-five before Tyler can start one, leans into Tyler's touch, continues on whatever thread of conversation that inevitably leads to mentions of their characters _together_ \-- on screen, as friends, as partners in crime, as _everything_.

 _He has to know_ , Tyler thinks on half the occasions, when his brain doesn't manage to shroud his moments of clarity into obliviousness.

It's like waiting for the glass to break when you're standing on one of those bridges with see-through panels that are supposed to be sturdy enough until you spot the small crack in the corner -- the one that the construction people say is only a surface flaw, but looks like a bad omen. At times, Tyler feels like he's on one of those panels above a shark tank -- he knows what the consequences would be if the media got a whiff of the truth, even though his feelings are entirely one-sided ( _no, Holl, don't even bother_ , Tyler tells Holland whenever she tries to argue with him about it) -- and the cracks multiply around the edges.

Each crack can be traced down to something Dylan did without one of them making a big deal out of it. It's not the boat thing, but it is the post-SDCC drinking session when Dylan stumbled into their car and Tyler's eyes and hands were drawn to him like a moth to a flame. It's not the nuzzling on the red carpet, but it is the tiny twitch of Dylan's muscles under Tyler's fingers in a _Wolf Watch_ session. It's not the hug at Alpha Con, but it is the one that they barely held back from only a short while earlier.

> _Yo, T, game night?_

Tyler stares at the text message that came from Dylan in the middle of the day, when Tyler was not on set for a change. They were texting all through the Teen Wolf hiatus, even if they didn't see each other much because of other commitments. It was Dylan's idea -- of course it was -- to set up their computers on an online hub, so they could game together, no matter where they were. It used to include Posey and Colton, and others on and off, but most of the time it was just Dylan and Tyler, sometimes gaming and sometimes binge-watching TV shows they missed out on while working. It was a replacement for when they used to huddle on the couch to do that while they lived together back during the first season.

Tyler eventually texts back, because he doesn't really feel like using his brain.

> _**Pass on the games.**  _

> _You caught up on GoT?_

The reply text comes barely two minutes later, and Tyler frowns.

> **_Are you that bored?_ **

It's not that he doesn't _want_ to spend time with Dylan, even just through Skype or whatever else they'd come up with for talking. But he knows that no one in the cast is quite as obsessed with Game of Thrones, and that Dylan in particular flips between loving it and falling asleep five minutes into an episode.

> _Can't sleep._

> **_So you decided I shouldn't either? ;)_ **

He tacks on the smiley face to the message as an afterthought, because the last thing he wants is for Dylan to think that he's angry. It's just teasing, Tyler revels in the snappy comebacks he gets, in the way they know each other well enough to hit each other's buttons on a regular basis. _Just not the ones I want_ , he thinks when his mind wanders in that direction.

> _Come on, we haven't done this in forever, fucking schedules are ruining everything_.

Tyler can get behind that sentiment, so he relents, and not long after the screen on his laptop lights up with the sync app that Dylan unearthed somewhere along with the naggy Skype notification.

"Hey there," he waves weakly at Dylan, who is grinning brightly into his camera.

"Oh my _god_ what is that on your face?" Dylan cackles.

"Facial hair that actually looks like it's been groomed and not just sprouting without control," Tyler deadpans, narrowing his eyes at whatever it is that Dylan is attempting to grow on his face.

"Har-har, just because you can give mountain men a run for their money if you forget to shave for five minutes…" Dylan grumbles, but there's a smirk that's tugging on the corner of his lips.

Combined with the pout, it shouldn't look either attractive or endearing, and yet Tyler's heart skips a little. He tries to push away what he knows is a goofy grin -- he's seen enough footage from interviews and con panels to be aware of how his face looks when it's turned in Dylan's direction -- but gives up a moment later, when Dylan is barely paying attention to the screen. Soon enough, the sync app starts showing the loading frame of whatever Dylan has deemed worthy watching, and Tyler refocuses on that.

"So, how's work?" Dylan asks, and Tyler grins.

They fall into easy conversation about Tyler's movie, then segue into Dylan's promo tour and the traveling that it involves.

"Seriously, dude, I need to glue the fucking pillow to my hand or something," Dylan groans. "I keep forgetting it, and then I can't sleep."

"Because you sleep oh so much when you _do_ have it," Tyler laughs when Dylan's reaction is a half-hearted protest accompanied by a huge yawn. "Do you want to do this some other time?"

Neither of them is paying too much attention to the show on screen, since they got too caught up in talking.

"Nah, we don’t get to do this much," Dylan says, his voice addled with tiredness.

"Okay," Tyler nods, and tries to shift his focus from Dylan's face to the show.

He should protest more, he should tell Dylan to pack it in and get some proper sleep while he can -- Tyler is very aware of how little down time Dylan has before he's on set again -- but he can't. He does miss everyone from the cast and he'd freely admit to that if anyone asked. But he'd keep to himself just how much he misses one particular person: the one who's rubbing his eyes now as he tries the fight off the exhaustion. Tyler isn't much more alert either, and when he yawns, he figures that in the worst case they'll both fall asleep while watching. Not much longer, he can feel his eyelids getting heavier, and he eventually closes them, hoping he won't give himself away with snoring.

When he starts regaining consciousness, he can hear noises from the laptop, but none of Dylan's usual running commentary on whatever is on screen. Tyler cracks one eye open, but only enough to focus his sight on the screen without giving away that he's awake -- he doesn't want Dylan to know yet, wants to catch some of the completely unguarded expressions that Dylan holds back even in front of Tyler.

A part of the screen still has a show running, but it only takes seconds before Tyler realizes that it's _not_ what they were watching before. While _GoT_ has its fair share of nudity, what he can see now is most definitely not it.

 _Porn_ , his mind offers while he tries to keep his breathing steady -- almost impossible under the circumstances -- _Dylan switched to porn_.

Tyler knows that Dylan probably forgot that they were both streaming the same thing, and when he glances to the other half of the screen, he can see that Dylan has left his webcam on. The sight isn't _new_ , their time of living together did come with the occasional accidental sighting of the others naked -- Tyler will never recover from walking in on Posey in the shower that one time -- but this is different.

Dylan is stretched out on the bed, and his eyes are closed, the sounds from the video that's playing seemingly enough for him. He's completely naked, and Tyler cracks open both his eyes then, blinking a few times to see more. When Dylan's hand moves, it brings Tyler's attention to the cock it's wrapped around -- it's hard, with a bead of precome at the tip -- and he has to bite his lip to hold back the whimper.

It's not the first time that this happened, and Tyler remembers the one time that he woke up after they'd been gaming for hours and eventually both crashed, to Dylan fondling himself in his sleep -- or so Tyler thought at the time. This seems more deliberate, though Tyler is still pretty sure that Dylan is not aware of the camera running. He is so lost in the sight of Dylan's stroking, in the sounds of quiet moans and whimpers that accompany the crude noises from the porn that's entirely irrelevant, that he almost misses Dylan opening his eyes and glancing towards the laptop.

Tyler drops his eyelids just in time, and he realizes two things: one, that Dylan _knows_ that at least Tyler's camera is still on, even if he's not aware that both of them are and that the porn is streaming onto Tyler's laptop too; two, that Dylan is getting off _while_ he's looking at Tyler's sleeping face and whatever else he can see on the screen. That thought alone is fucking with Tyler's brain almost enough to break his focus on _staying the fuck asleep_ , or at least looking like he is. A little voice at the back of his head pipes up about how it's _wrong wrong wrong_ to watch Dylan when he thinks he's technically alone. But then, Dylan _is_ looking at a "sleeping" Tyler as his hand is gripping tighter and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, so Tyler's mini guilt trip only last a few seconds.

"Fuck," rolls out of Dylan's mouth, and Tyler's heart is racing in his chest.

He can see the way Dylan's muscles are playing and straining underneath his skin, how he's fighting his hips from rolling up and fucking into his own hand, how Dylan's teeth clamp down on his bottom lip whenever his thumb strokes up over the tip of his cock. Tyler hopes that Dylan can't see below Tyler's waist, because the sight and the sounds have definitely made _him_ hard, almost enough to reach down and join Dylan in the jerk-off session. _Almost_.

And then Dylan's breathing gets shaky, his eyes roll back, and whatever sounds were coming from the speakers, they're all lost to the blood rushing through Tyler's ears as he watches Dylan buck up into his fist and freeze. He can't keep his eyelids down anymore, because he wants to _see_ , wants to memorize each second of Dylan's orgasm as it plays out on the screen, each twitch of Dylan's body and bead of come that trickles down over his knuckles as he keeps his hand fisted over his cock.

" _Fuck_ , Ty…"

It comes out with and exhale, just as Dylan's body relaxes again and Tyler's eyes close in panic. He wonders if it's because Dylan has spotted him, if it's because he got caught -- they got caught. But nothing else seems to indicate that Dylan noticed Tyler being awake, though Tyler doesn't dare cracking his eyes open again. At least not until he hears a whispered "bye" and the silence following the logging off alert from Skype.

_Well, shit._


	3. re: fashion

re: fashion

It started early on, back in Season One, when he was still living with Posey and Dylan and when their red carpet appearances were dictated by the network. Tyler knew the importance of dressing right, he was never a complete idiot about what to wear and when, but a few of the disasters from the early days did make him shudder. Sure, he knows that everyone has missteps in that field, especially those who choose to dress to stand out, which he didn't do.

But eventually, knowing that Colton had a little more clout in the fashion department, Tyler gave in and consulted him before appearances that weren't completely in control of the wardrobe people. To his relief, he never regretted that decision. Yet.

So it comes to that: he picks an outfit, mulls it over for an hour or so, tries to talk himself into being comfortable with it and sure about it being suitable and good-looking. Inevitably though, short of clothes that have already gotten the stamp of approval before, he takes a photo and texts it to Colton with a -- rather pathetic, if Tyler's honest with himself -- "help?" following the pic.

_Deserter: Nice. Drop the tie and loosen the buttons. Got black dress shoes?_

**Tyler: Yeah, thanks.**

He switches the shoes and tugs on the shirt, wondering for a while if the open button is too much, too little, too obvious. It's not like he's expecting photographers, but he knows cameras will always be around, no matter where he goes. His phone buzzes with the alarm he set so he'd have enough time to get across the city, but before he can shut it off, another text comes in.

_Deserter: and stop fretting, Dyl likes the clothes off you more than on._

Tyler stares at the words, and his mind goes blank because _what?_ Yeah sure, he's on the way to table reads for the new season, and it's not like anyone expects him to be dressed up, so the comment about fretting makes sense. But Colton's comment about Dylan doesn't, because seriously _what the fuck_.

It's exactly the line that tumbles out of his mouth when he calls Colton.

"You're heading to the read, aren't you?" Colton asks, and his amusement is obvious in the tone of his voice. "And Dylan's finally gotten his ass back from his big deal movie thing?"

"I… yeah?" Tyler answers, still baffled by everything, including the why of even having this conversation.

"So you're panicking, and you don't want to go in wearing sweats and one of Stiles' tees," Colton chuckles.

There's no way Tyler's blush can be seen through the phone -- he's thanking himself for not choosing FaceTime for the call -- but his cheeks grow warmer anyway. It's not exactly a secret that he rummages through the wardrobe occasionally and _borrows_ some of the pieces, or uses them as inspiration for his own shopping sprees. He just wasn't aware that others noticed how focused on Dylan's wardrobe his explorations are.

"Dude, you're not going to try and deny it, are you?" Colton keeps laughing. "It's not like Dylan doesn't do the same with Derek's shit."

"Wait, he does?"

The words are out before Tyler can think twice about it, and he rubs a hand over his face when he realizes just how _hopeful_ he sounded saying them.

"Oh man, Holl is right, the two of you are still idiots."

"I'm _not_ ," Tyler protests weakly, not convincing anyone.

"Wear the shirt, the jeans will make him forget everything in the big Hollywood game because of what they're doing to your ass," Colton says in a calm tone. "And he prefers you being all grown up and in dress shoes instead of sneakers. Something about maturity or something, not that he knows much about it."

"Okay."

"Dude, he's into you almost as much as you're into him," Colton says after a pause. "Holl… well, everyone really told me not to say anything, especially since I'm not around you guys anymore, but seriously, man."

"I think," Tyler swallows, feeling his stomach tie itself into a knot, "I think they have a point. You know it was for the cameras back when you were still around."

"For Holl and I, maybe," Colton replies, still sounding infuriatingly calm. "We all know her and Ian were the BFFs behind the scenes. But you and Dylan _always_ gravitate towards each other, cameras or not."

"That's… _no_ ," Tyler blurts out, though he's not sure what he's trying to deny.

It's not news to anyone that the stunts from the early days of Teen Wolf promo have left a residual closeness between him and Dylan. He knows that having lived together made it more natural, especially the last few months when Posey was out of the house more often. But anything more, any other feelings that might be involved are Tyler's only, he's sure.

"God, you're talking yourself into Derek levels of man-pain and pining, aren't you?" Colton asks into the silence created by Tyler's musings.

"I'm not _pining_ ," Tyler grunts, and even he realizes how untypical it is of him.

"Wear the jeans," Colton says instead of continuing to argue. "I'll be expecting a report back on how well my advice worked. I'm out, some of us have actual work to do," he finishes with a chuckle.

Tyler stares at his phone for a minute after the call ends, and his mind is terrifyingly blank. Then, lost for anything else to do, he heads out of the door.

\---

Colton doesn't get the report he's expecting that afternoon. There isn't a text from Dylan on his phone with a picture of Tyler's sleeping face and the words "thanks". Not yet. But Colton does get to laugh when he gets a text with the words "I'm an idiot" from Tyler later that evening.


End file.
